Breastcasting? Yes, Breastcasting.

Recently, a correspondent from our Chapel Hill (NC) office relayed a quizzical message to us. This announcement (a version of which is available here) is so bizarre that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” felt compelled to offer it to our readers in full.

It comes from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, and reads as follows:

The Lesbian Resource Center, The Women's Center, and The Carolina Women's
Center proudly present:

Spaces are limited. For more information or to register, call [919] 968-4610.

Oh, dear. There are so many points that we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” want to make that we don’t know where to begin. First, we suppose we should mention that the University of North Carolina—like many state schools—is ineluctably strapped for cash. May we humbly suggest that “breastcasting” events are not worth tax-payers' money?

Second, we couldn’t help but notice that the rhetorical questions the advertisement offers—“What is 'breastcasting'?” and “Why would I want that done?”—were eminently reasonable queries. We found the answers a little less inspired.

We would love it if a representative from the Lesbian Resource Center, the Women’s Center, and the highly-redundant Carolina Women’s Center could explain exactly how “breastcasting” amounts to “a woman-positive experience that celebrates the diversity of the female form.” Need we be so gauche as to ask how pornography does not also “celebrate the diversity of the female form”?

In addition, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” are not experts in interior design. Still, we have a very difficult time believing that anyone with any aesthetic sense would conclude that a plaster of Paris cast of one’s breasts qualifies as “an outstanding addition” to one’s home décor. We feel as if it offers the same patina of cosmopolitanism as, say, a velvet Elvis painting, or a picture of dogs playing poker.

We also wondered how plaster of Paris casts of women’s breasts amount to the promotion of awareness of breast health. Couldn’t one argue that, say, Playboy magazine, by virtue of offering its readers countless examples of naked female torsos, is a prime mover and shaker (if you will) in this regard?

If we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” were a tad more skeptical, we’d conclude that this whole “breastcasting” nonsense is merely an excuse for some lesbian college students to check out one another’s upper halves.

Perhaps most importantly, the roughly 47 percent of the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly” that is male was deeply dismayed to find that it has been left out of this empowering celebration of the female form. If we, the male members of the crack young staff, are known for anything, it’s surely the celebration of the “diversity of the female form.” Why keep a “diversity” of viewers from enjoying these women-friendly festivities?

If the various women’s juggernauts (pun intended) at the University of North Carolina believe that expending funds on such ridiculous programming is vital, we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,” think they’re a bunch of boobs.

Still, if we could get tickets to the event…